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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775086">Humany-Wumany</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkatze/pseuds/snowkatze'>snowkatze</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:01:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775086</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkatze/pseuds/snowkatze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is determined he will be excellent at humaning, but then, he's known for succumbing to hubris every now and then. And he'll try to win Rose Tyler's heart when she's still longing for the Time Lord version of him - though even he knows that might be a hopeless endeavour, doomed to fail from the start.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He</span>
  <span> has the world between his fingers. He has everything. He has woken up from a long nightmare. He is home. Then, she lets go of his hand.</span>
</p><p>She is scrutinizing him, trying to see him, the real him. Her gaze wanders all the way down to his Converse shoes. With bated breath, he waits for her verdict and wonders if she can see him, in all his humanness, his one-heartedness, his one-lifeness. One-chance-ness. He has laid it all out for her, all that he has to offer. And for one moment, he is so, so hopeful.</p><p>
  <span>But then she</span>
  <span> steps back, her mouth twists the way it always does when she’s about to start crying. </span>
  <span>He swallows the realization down heavily – she has seen him. </span>
  <span>And he doesn’t measure up. (He wishes he could take it all back, the words that </span>
  <span>never seemed to fit into the space between the two of them.</span>
  <span> First, he was too late to say it. Now he </span>
  <span>is</span>
  <span> the wrong man. </span>
  <span>Too different. Except for all the ways in which he </span>
  <span>is</span>
  <span> the same.</span>
  <span>)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She presses her hand to her face and sobs, crying just like she did back then. And he can’t touch her, just like he couldn’t back then. </span>
  <span>
    <em>No touch. </em>
  </span>
  <span>His hands twitch at his sides, but she is a universe away from him. And so far out of reach.</span>
</p><p>It’s the same sorrow, he can tell. It doesn’t matter that he is right here beside her, he has left her again. He has left and yet he has stayed. Like a coward, he couldn’t say it and he finally whispered those words in her ear. He is here and he isn’t. It doesn’t matter, because he has broken her heart again.</p><p>“<span>Rose,” </span><span>he starts, because this time he is doing this right. It’s his one chance. </span><span>If she’ll just let him explain, if she’ll let him in, then -</span></p><p>“I can’t,” she says and walks away from him.</p><p>The waves lap at the beach carefully. But the tide is going out. And Rose is walking away from him. The TARDIS is gone, it suddenly hits him. He’s homeless. He will never see Donna, his Donna or his Martha or his Jack again, they’re all gone. And Rose is walking away from him. He is human, but he is humanless.</p><p>Standing on a beach in Norway, the Doctor has nothing.</p><p>
  <span><br/>
***<br/>
<br/>
“</span>
  <span>Mayflies,” the Doctor says suddenly into the silence on the </span>
  <span>zeppelin. “The Germans call them ‘Eintagsfliegen’, did you know that? The one-day-flies. Of course, that doesn’t mean they live exactly one day. Some only live for hours or even minutes, but then the same thing could happen to a human, if, say, a piano fell on them.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>Jackie shoots him a warning glare, but he finds he suddenly can’t stop talking. “</span>
  <span>Or if they dropped out of four-story-building or something else really really high, like a – </span>
  <span>a </span>
  <span>zeppelin.”</span>
</p><p>He stares out the window, into the clouds below.</p><p>“<span>Mayfly could survive being dropped out of </span><span>zeppelin,” he adds </span><span>thoughtfully</span><span>, “well, unless it was a few hours old…”<br/>
</span><span>“</span><span>Doctor,” Rose says. </span><span>Startled, he looks up. Maybe she does understand, maybe she does see him as the Doctor if...</span></p><p>“<span>Yeah</span><span>?”<br/>
“Stop talking about </span><span>mayflies.”<br/>
</span><span>Maybe she just doesn’t have anything else to call him.</span><span><br/>
“Course.”<br/>
</span><span>Silence has never been this heavy or this unbearable. </span><span>Maybe they don’t have mayflies in this universe. How would he know? He knows nothing in this universe except for her. (He doesn’t know her.)</span></p><p>
  <span>And she’s right because what could he say to her that would make this okay -<br/>
make her forget -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he has hurt her a million times -<br/>
</span>
  <span>She sneaks glances at him, but she doesn’t speak. </span>
  <span>Maybe human tongues are heavier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  <span>As soon as they enter</span>
  <span> the big entrance hall of the mansion, a little boy comes running toward them. Rose kneels down and wraps her arms around him. Jackie leans down to ruffle his hair. They’re </span>
  <span>so very clearly a family it hurts.</span>
  <span><br/>
“Is that the Doctor?” asks the little boy. </span>
  <span>He must be her brother Tony.</span>
  <span><br/>
“No,” Rose says immediately, then, “I mean, yes. Kind of.”<br/>
The Kind-of-Doctor </span>
  <span>had been trailing</span>
  <span> behind her, into the house full of things. A man with no things does not belong here. Uncertainly, he stops on the doorway and wonders if she even wants him here.<br/>
</span>
  <span>He thinks of all the times he’d dreamed of being human and having a future with Rose Tyler.</span>
</p><p>He thinks, be careful what you wish for.</p><p>“<span>Doctor?” Pete says and smiles at him. </span><span>He tries to smile back, but those human muscles won’t obey him.</span></p><p>“He’s not really the Doctor,” Rose tells him.</p><p>“<span>Why not?”<br/>
“Long story.”<br/>
</span><span>The Not-Really-Doctor doesn’t know how to say good-bye. He can’t just disappear into the night, he can’t do that to her. (Not twice on the same day.)</span></p><p>(Who is he, if not the Doctor?)<br/>
He is not a Time Lord and not a human, he is nothing and Rose knows…</p><p>“<span>He’s like… a clone,” Rose tells Pete.</span></p><p>
  <span>He is something, but half-heartedly. He is almost. He is not. Breathing used to be easier, didn’t it? Is that to be human, to run out of breath? To have one heart beating twice as fast? How do humans make up for everything they don’t have? How do they breathe breathe breathe<br/>
“Doctor?”</span>
</p><p>She says it so easily like reflex like instinct like he is the Doctor like she can look at him and fool herself</p><p>“<span>Doctor, look at me,” she says and he does because he thought he would never see her again. Rose Tyler. </span><span>Human for a few hours and already he’s dying, like a mayfly, like a complete idiot who can’t handle -<br/>
“</span><span>Breathe in, slowly,” Rose tells him. He forces himself to. “And out.”<br/>
</span><span>He blinks a few times and suddenly realizes Rose is kneeling in front of him? Why is she kneeling?<br/>
“And in. And out.”<br/>
Oh. It’s because he’s on the floor. He tears at his hair, trying to stay focused, that he’s here, that she’s here, that they made it out alive.<br/>
“Careful, Pinocchio,” she says softly and puts her hand on his fingers, slowly extracting them from his hair. “You’re a real boy now.”<br/>
</span><span>She’s trying to make him smile. Pfffh. Smile. He’s not going to smile. He’s run out of things to smile about.</span></p><p>“<span>Still not ginger, huh? What’d you change your whole physiology for then?” </span><span>she smirks, tongue between her teeth. And he can’t help but crack a smile.</span></p><p>“<span>That’s right,” he says shakily, “it’s really rubbish. </span><span>Now I’ll never be ginger.”</span></p><p>“<span>You good?”<br/>
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Never been better. What… what was that? Might be some human design flaw. Probably takes some time to get used to living without a respiratory bypass.”<br/>
“</span><span>I think you just had a panic attack.”<br/>
“Panic attack?! No. I don’t get panic attacks, </span><span>I never even panic, I’m the man with a plan, no, wait, forget I said that, never saying that again -</span><span>”<br/>
</span><span>He draws in a sharp breath. Oh. Bloody humans.<br/>
<br/>
***<br/>
<br/>
</span><span>She’s escorted him to a bedroom. A big, lonely bedroom. And he’s lying on a big, lonely bed and wondering what he’s doing here. Sleep, she said. Humans sleep all the time, annoyingly often. Already he only has a really short life span and he’s going to spend half of it sleeping. Rubbish.</span></p><p>
  <span>She said he must be tired and he is, but he can’t sleep in a bed as big as this, in a room with no people, in a room that is not even alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s never panicking again, he knows that now. Jackie has put a </span>
  <span>red </span>
  <span>mug of tea on his night stand. It says “Keep Calm and Carry On” </span>
  <span>in a big font</span>
  <span> on it. He’ll do that, he’ll keep calm, he’ll keep his cool, as they say. And then he’ll carry on. </span>
  <span>And then Rose won’t have to talk to him with that look in her eyes. The </span>
  <span>
    <em>poor you, nothing to be done</em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> look.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>He sneaks to the door and cracks it open. No one there </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>in the corridor, but somewhere he can hear voices</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>. Quietly, he moves toward </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the noise, but stops before entering what must be the living room.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Is that normal?” he hears Pete say. “Does he often get panic attacks?”<br/>
“No. I mean not that I know of. Anyway, he’s new, now. Different,” that’s Rose’s voice. “Alien on earth… Or, well, </span></span><span><em>the Doctor</em></span><span><span> on earth, that’s like a fish on land. </span></span><span><span>‘specially cause he hasn’t got the TARDIS.”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>Right. Better not to disturb that conversation. </span></span><span><span>Quickly, he keeps walking. Which is what he does now. Keep going. Keep calm and carry on. </span></span><span><span>He finds a glass door and steps outside, where he can sit down on the edge of the porch.</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The stars are still here - the Doctor breathes a sigh of relief. But they’re all… off. Sort of wrong. (Maybe that’s how Rose feels about him.)<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Same universe, but different. London with zeppelins. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>(Could she ever live with a Doctor with zeppelins? </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>When there’s another one still out there who’s got a TARDIS? Doubtful. Very doubtful indeed.)</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The Doctor leans back against a huge plant pot, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. He starts counting stars, to make sure they’re all still there. One star, two stars, oh, where are the stars gone? Weren’t there more stars than this? Weren’t there… </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>more stars...</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span><br/>
Everything goes black.<br/>
<br/>
***<br/>
<br/>
“Doctor? Doctor.”<br/>
Irritated, the Doctor waves his hand around.<br/>
“Donna?”<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He blinks and the face above him suddenly becomes clearer, framed by blonde hair.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“Rose Tyler,” the Doctor realizes and smiles.</p><p>“<span><span>Humans sleep in beds, Doctor.”<br/>
“Huh?”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>He’s lying on a porch, he realizes. On a porch with Rose Tyler.</span></span><span><span><br/>
“Y’know, houses… Rooms… Think you’ve got us mistaken for squirrels or something.”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>She holds out a hand for him and he grabs it, grateful for something to hold on to. </span></span><span><span>She drags him up and he comes to stand on shaky feet. The sun is being annoying, blinding him from the horizon.</span></span></p><p>“Squirrels sleep in trees,” he remembers.</p><p>“<span><span>You would probably fall out if you tried that,” Rose says and bumps his shoulder. “</span></span><span><span>Come on, let’s have breakfast.”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>Right, because there are breakfasts now because there are mornings now and when you eat something in the morning, it’s called breakfast. Arbitrary human distinctions. There are no mornings in the TARDIS.</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>But if eating breakfast is what humans do, then he’ll do it. In fact, he’ll be great at it.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“Are you sleep-walking now?” Rose asks him once they’re seated at the long table in the room with the glass walls. “Is that another thing that’s… new?”</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The Doctor avoids her gaze and fiddles with the spoon she’d given him.</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span><br/>
“Not exactly…” he starts. “I just needed a breath of fresh air. Then I… got side-tracked. Happens.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Well, don’t make a habit of it. I know you Time Lords are </span></span><span><em>completely</em></span><span><em> invincible</em></span><span><span>,” she says </span></span><span><span>with emphasis so he knows she’s being sarcastic</span></span><span><span>, “but humans can catch a cold.”</span></span><span><span><br/>
</span></span><span><span>“Because it’s cold at night,” the Doctor says, like it’s an epiphany, “and the cold’s conta</span></span><span><span>gi</span></span><span><span>ous! Makes perfect sense.”</span></span></p><p>And it gets her to smile which makes him smile and it’s a little bit like everything he’s ever wanted.</p><p>“<span><span>So what do humans eat for breakfast? Is it bananas? I hope it’s bananas.”<br/>
“</span></span><span><em>You’re</em></span><span><span> bananas,” Rose teases him.</span></span></p><p>“Oh, Rose Tyler,” he raises his eyebrows, “you might be right about that.”</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Eating cereal at a table with Rose Tyler. Absolutely bonkers. </span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>So you do this every morning? Just sit down… eat…” he says and watches her walk over to the counter of the adj</span></span><span><span>acent</span></span><span><span> kitchen. </span></span><span><span>There’s a fruit basket sitting on it, but humans like to be silly and put plastic things instead of the real deal, so he’s not sure there’s real fruit in it. </span></span><span><span>“Isn’t that a little boring? I mean, humans are generally boring -”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>She throws </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>a banana at him.</span>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>
    <span>***<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>The Doctor is on an undercover mission. He’s pretending to be human. His goal: convince Rose Tyler that he’s worth having around.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Quite capable of being human, he is. It’ll be easy </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>for a Time Lord. Easy peasy. Lemon squeezy. Lemons! Exactly. He’ll make some food, something with lemon in it, and that’ll prove to her that he can provide for himself. And for other people, too. Whole family meal, he’ll make.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>He remembers a meal he had on a cruise ship, human meal, that, which had been quite good before sixty-seven percent of organic matter on the ship had turned into jellyfish, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>including the roast beef. He’ll get it done in no time!</span>
  </span>
</p><p>First, he’ll need a pot… a pan… Oil, oil, oil… He spots a couple of bottles in one of the cupboards – meh, if they don’t have red coconut oil, then olive will have to do. Now, whether to cook or deep-fry those lemons?</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The cooking process is going rather smoothly. The Doctor has everything under control. By the time Rose steps into the kitchen and gapes at him, he has even managed to put out the second fire. Mind, the first one is still burning. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Coughing, the Doctor throws a towel over the burning pot, then turns off the heat where the other pot with the tomato sauce had boiled over and is still dripping onto the floor. There’s something else, something he’s forgetting – oh! Right, now he has time to hold the burn on his hand under cold water.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Surprise?” </span></span><span><span>the Doctor says with a lopsided smile and a singed fringe, cold </span></span><span><span>tap </span></span><span><span>water running over his hand.</span></span></p><p>Rose is still gaping.</p><p>“I’ve made a meal,” the Doctor declares, even though it’s really obvious.</p><p>“<span><span>Are you sure that’s what you made?” Rose eventually finds her words again. “Because to me it looks more like </span></span><span><em>a huge mess</em></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>Well, they do eat something called a ‘huge mess’ on those star cruisers in -”<br/>
“Doctor,” Rose says, a warning tone in her voice. </span></span><span><span>“</span></span><span><span>My mom will eat </span></span><span><em>you</em></span><span><span> once she sees this.”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The Doctor suppresses a shudder. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Then he turns off the tab and starts</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> putting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the finishing touches on his meal, which looks a little like a soup and a little like what cats throw up. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Nevermind. The Doctor is sure it’s supposed to look like that.</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He grabs his plate and sinks down, leaning with his back against the kitchen cupboards. Now for the taste test.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>It’s sweet!” </span></span><span><span>he exclaims, sounding offended,</span></span><span><span> “</span></span><span><span>i</span></span><span><span>t’s not supposed to be sweet. Oh! I must have put in sugar instead of – instead of -”<br/>
“Salt?”<br/>
“No, no, don’t be ridiculous. </span></span><span><span>I </span></span><span><span>mistook it for</span></span><span><span>… </span></span><span><span>Granite dust of the second Moon of Cheriko. It looked exactly like it!”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>Rose sits down next to him and gives him a fond look.</span></span></p><p>“Did you forget we’re on earth again?”<br/>
“Oi, this was an earth dish, that’s why I decided to make it, I remember distinctly seeing it on a cruise ship – oh. Ohhh.”</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The Doctor slaps his forehead with the realization.</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span><br/>
“What?”<br/>
“The cruise ship was in space. Did have humans on it, but it was way, way in the future. That does clear some things up.”<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He pokes with his fork in the dish. His human taste buds are being stubborn, refusing to appreciate this delicacy.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Is that a lemon?” </span></span><span><span>Rose laughs. “Did you actually </span></span><span><em>peel</em></span><span><span> a lemon?”<br/>
“Well, yes, how else would you eat it -”<br/>
“No one peels lemons,” Rose keeps laughing. The Doctor is </span></span><span><em>not </em></span><span><span>sulking when he eats another bit of the food. </span></span><span><span><br/>
“</span></span><span><span>You don’t have to eat that, you know?” </span></span><span><span>Rose says gently. </span></span><span><span>But the Doctor is not backing down.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>I swear, this would have made a great dish, if I only had some Paraveen algae and teeth of these little </span></span><span><span>H</span></span><span><span>omaloff goblins, nasty beings -”<br/>
“You sound like a witch. What else was missing? Blood of a virgin?”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>She’s laughing at him again. </span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Yeah, yeah, you laugh!” </span></span><span><span>the Doctor exclaims and points his fork at Rose.</span></span><span><span> “They’d have gobbled this up in the third galaxy of Mon</span></span><span><span>oson</span></span><span><span>or.”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>It’s really not fair. First, he turns </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>part </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>human, then he loses the TARDIS, and now he’s being laughed at. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>By a human, no less.</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span><br/>
“Human-me is not destined to become a master chef, is he?” </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>he remarks </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>once she’s caught her breath.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>No, no, I don’t think so,” she tells him with sparkling eyes.</span></span><span><span><br/>
</span></span><span><span>Half an hour later, Jackie banns him from the kitchen.</span></span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>
    <span>***<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>The thing about the slow lane is that it’s… slow. It’s like watching a flower grow. Or like watching a water tap drip. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Which the Doctor can do, totally. He only needs something to do, something human. When he offers his help, Jackie is wary, but she does direct him to an ironing board and heap of clothes. Ironing clothes. What a useless activity! No, no, not useless. Just… low priority. Straightened</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> jackets are… straight. Who wouldn’t want a straight jacket? </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>(That’s what they’ll put him in when he inevitably goes insane by domesticity.)</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>He carefully irons two shirts, probably Pete’s. Is he going to need new shirts, too, now? Who is he now? A man with no shirts. No shirts and one suit. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>No wonder Rose isn’t impressed with him.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>This really could go quicker. Isn’t that what humans do? Invent things so chores can be done more quickly? It’s certainly not against the rules to modify the iron a little… No, that won’t do.</p><p>The Doctor wanders around the house a little, but he only finds what he needs in the shack outside.</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Jackie and Rose come to check on him later </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>back in the laundry room, when he is half-way through the disassembly.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“You weren’t terribly emotionally attached to that lawn-mower, were you?” he asks.</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Rose starts laughing. Jackie walks away without a word, which is not usual when she is upset about something. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Rose comes in and sits on the table behind him, just watching him.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>So, wheels for movement and flexibility. Some parts from the coffee machine, two flashlights, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>an upside-down trash can,</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a plumbing stick and toilet brush later, and the machine has arms and can operate the iron. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>The movement is a little slow, but he can eventually program it to pick up shirts and iron them.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>What are you doing?” Rose asks and he whirls around. He’d forgotten she was here.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>Uhm…”<br/>
“Trying to build a Dalek?”<br/>
“That’s not a -”<br/>
He pauses, leans back and ponders his creation for a moment. It does bear an uncanny resemblance to a Dalek. The Doctor tilts his head. “It’s the plumbing stick, isn’t it?”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>He knocks against the camera he’d installed on it.<br/>
“You have no plans of destroying all life in the universe, am I right?” he asks affectionately.</span></span><span><span><br/>
</span></span><span><span>The creature whirs. </span></span></p><p>“<span><span>He does plan on destroying dad’s shirts, though,” Rose says casually and inclines her head.</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Confused, the Doctor turns around, just in time to witness his creature burning a big hole into a </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>light </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>blue dress shirt.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>No, no, no,” the Doctor yells and scrambles for his sonic screwdriver. Luckily, he’d grabbed a spare one before he was dropped off in this universe. </span></span><span><span>He quickly changes a frequency – there must have been something wrong with the time limit…<br/>
“</span></span><span><span>Don’t know why I expected you to iron shirts like a normal person,” Rose shakes her head.</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The Destroyer of Shirts drives over his foot.</span>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>
    <span>***<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>When Jackie asks him to be “on his best behavior” because important business partners of Pete’s are coming over, the Doctor was really, really determined to do everything right this time. Unfortunately, he didn’t count on the Destroyer of Shirts interrupting dessert.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“He won’t stop following me,” yells one of the men in suits, Mr. Berry, who’d excused himself to the bathroom a moment ago.</p><p>The Doctor jumps up, his eyes dropping to the hot iron attached to the plumbing stick.</p><p>“He just wants to iron your shirt,” he assures the man who is still stumbling backwards.</p><p>“<span><span>While I’m still in it?!”<br/>
“Yep,” the Doctor says, “design flaw. I just have to modify the – just a moment -”<br/>
Mr. Berry yelps and walks backwards into the entrance hall. Very slowly, the Destroyer of Shirts follows him. </span></span><span><span>The Doctor quickly chases after them with his sonic screwdriver until the Destroyer of Shirts finally goes quiet.</span></span></p><p>“There,” the Doctor smiles, “crisis averted.”<br/>
“Averted?” the man breathes heavily. “That – that thing nearly -”</p><p>He still can’t catch his breath. The other man in a suit, Mr. Brown, comes in behind him. The Doctor tries for a winning smile, but Mr. Brown says: “You people are crazy. We’re leaving.”</p><p>Hm. That was a little… Out of control.</p><p>The Doctor sits down on the dining room table and both Jackie and Pete start yelling at him. He waits until only one of them speaks at a time.</p><p>“You know, you’re welcome to stay for as long as you like,” Pete says, clearly exasperated, “but you have to understand – you can’t build dangerous machinery when we have guests over.”<br/>
“Dangerous? He’s harmless – a door would have stopped him.”</p><p>“<span><span>You might have just lost me an important business connection,” Pete says, which the Doctor can’t really argue. “</span></span><span><span>I need to make some phone calls.”<br/>
He stalks off. Jackie gives him a look of deep disappointment before she leaves too. Finally, it’s only Rose there – and she gives him a look almost as cold as her mother’s.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>He’s trying his best,” the Doctor says numbly.<br/>
“Someone might have gotten hurt. </span></span><span><span>Doctor, you can’t do this – you need to think about other people.</span></span><span><span>”</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>So, what you’re saying is,” the Doctor says carefully, “you’re not amused?”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>He nearly smirks at the memory, but Rose shuts him down.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>No, I am not amused.” </span></span><span><span>She huffs. “Now, how do I start? You set the kitchen on fire. Your machine ruins my dad’s shirts and then attacks one of his business partners.”<br/>
Strange she hadn’t listed the worst of her grievances – him not being the Doctor.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>Listen, I – I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took apart your coffee machine. I’m sorry I stole your </span></span><span><span>parent</span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span>’ lawn-mower.”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>She crosses her arms, unyielding and unforgiving.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Is that it? The Doctor dropped me off with a thief?”<br/>
“That’s not-”<br/>
“Because that’s what you do, isn’t it? You stole someone else’s life, someone else’s memories -”<br/>
“Ha, that’s funny,” the Doctor says </span></span><span><span>dr</span></span><span><span>y</span></span><span><span>ly</span></span><span><span>, “then how come I’ve lost everything?”<br/>
“It’s not losing if you never had it in the first place.”</span></span></p><p>It’s like a blow to the face. And there’s nothing he can say to defend himself. There’s nothing to defend – everything she said was true. That’s all he is. Nothing more than an impostor.</p><p>“<span><span>Right,” the Doctor says quietly. “Of course.”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>And just as quietly, the Doctor moves past her, very careful not to brush her, and goes to his room. A room that’s not really his. He’s a fake Doctor living a fake </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>life</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>He is not the Doctor pretending to be human. He is a hybrid that never should have existed pretending to be the Doctor.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>
    <span>***<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>It’s just so hard. She is all he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>has</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> left. (He has nothing left.)<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>From the moment she let go of his hand on the beach, he knew it would be hard to win her over. Now it’s becoming clear it’s impossible. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He would never be what she wanted. Those silly plastic fake fruits humans</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> put up for decoration – that’s him. He’s a plastic banana. If anyone tried to eat him, they’d bite their teeth out.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Who wants to spend the rest of their life with a mannequin?</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The Doctor would pack his suitcases, but there’s not really anything to pack. All he has is what fit in his bigger-on-the-inside pockets – a sonic screwdriver, a psychic paper, a handkerchief and a pair of rubber gloves. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>It’s enough to get by.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>It would be so easy to just walk past the dining room where she is probably still sitting. To sneak out of the house unseen and unheard. To become nothing more than a bitter memory in her mind within moments. But she deserves more than this. Especially after what he pulled on the beach yesterday.<br/>
And oh, it would be easy to stay. To overstay his welcome a little longer. To just walk into the dining room and sit down beside her. But he can’t do that to her either.</p><p>So he sticks his head through the dining room door on his way. For a moment, he just watches the way she is leaning against the table. She doesn’t notice him, so he says: “Rose? I’m leaving.”<br/>
She doesn’t even look up.<br/>
“Fine.”</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>It stings, even though he should have seen this coming. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Of course she doesn’t care. He miscalculated again. (Just like his other self on the beach.) </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He should go and stop bothering her. That’s what she deserves. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>But suddenly, he can’t leave it.<br/>
“I just – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted me to – I should have left earlier. I was just… being stupid again.”<br/>
And scared. Scared and stupid. Might well be his second and third name. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>The first and last one would be harder to figure out. Because he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>would need a name now, a real one, one to put in a passport or in a driver’s license or whatever else humans use to prove that they exist.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>What do you mean?”<br/>
His arrogant other self thought he knew exactly what she wanted. (Him. A life with him. Stupid, foolish other self.) But, well, who’s he to judge? He would have done the same thing.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>I mean… I’m sorry he left you here, with me. I know that I’m… fairly useless right now. As a human. I’m more a burden to you than anything else.”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>He can certainly do more than </span></span><span><em>be a bother</em></span><span><span> in his small human existence. Where will he go?</span></span><span><span> It’s a big planet. (Small in comparison to all of time and space, but there are lots of places he hasn’t been.) </span></span><span><span>There has got to be a small corner of it where he doesn’t hurt anyone just by existing.</span></span><span><span><br/>
“You don’t… You don’t mean you’re going to </span></span><span><em>leave-</em></span><span><span>leave, do you?”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>She sounds almost shocked, though he doesn’t really understand why. She’s got to have at least a little bit of faith in him, right? </span></span><span><span>He could get by. He could have a job. He could teach. Maybe history. Though he didn’t really know the history of this universe and people rarely liked it when he told them how something </span></span><span><em>really </em></span><span><span>happened. Maybe physics. Those couldn’t have changed overly much. He could also be a doctor. The doctor a doctor. Ha. Or he could rob a bank and go on the run. (That’s basically what he’d done before. Only that he hadn’t stolen money, but all of time and space.)</span></span><span><span><br/>
“Like I said,” </span></span><span><span>he tells her and all he can do is linger in the door</span></span><span><span>way</span></span><span><span>.</span></span><span><span><br/>
“I thought you mean leave for a walk or something. You can’t leave. You – don’t you dare.”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Why can’t she just make this easy on him? Why does he have to argue her out of letting him stay? Even now, he can see the kindness in her eyes.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>You shouldn’t let me stay just because you feel sorry for me,” </span></span><span><span>he says quietly.</span></span><span><span><br/>
</span></span><span><span>This doorway is all he has left of her. There’s a part of him that wishes she would keep arguing him on this, ideally forever. Just so he can keep standing here and looking at her.</span></span><span><span><br/>
“That’s not -”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>Keep looking at </span></span><span><span>her blonde hair open and falling over her shoulders. </span></span><span><span><br/>
“Then why? Because he told you to? You don’t owe me –“ </span></span><span><span>It’s hard to think of himself in twos.</span></span><span><span> “</span></span><span><span>Y</span></span><span><span>ou don’t owe him anything.”</span></span></p><p>She pushes herself off the table she’d been leaning against.</p><p>“That’s not why,” she tells him softly.</p><p>“Because I’ll be fine, you know,” he promises, his voice wavering, “I’m not completely incompetent. No matter how much I make it look like it sometimes.”</p><p>“<span><span>You – you need me,” she says, close to tears. “You’re helpless trying to be human.”<br/>
</span></span><span><em>How would you cope with half a heart, Rose Tyler?</em></span></p><p>He shrugs. “I never said it would be easy.”</p><p>“<span><span>Stay.” </span></span><span><span>The tears in her throat are choking her.</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>It would be so easy to give in. But he can’t do that to her.<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Why is she so reluctant in the first place? His next suspicion hurts a little.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>You… you don’t think I’m dangerous, do you? I’m not any more dangerous than he is. And he’s made it without a babysitter quite a few centuries.”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>Does she think he would set her world on fire? Drench the whole planet in gasoline and light a match? (Could he really blame her if she thought so?)</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>No, of course not.”</span></span></p><p>He steps toward her and can’t keep himself from taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly.</p><p>“You know me. I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll join a band,” he tries to joke, “like the Beatles.”</p><p>Like the Lonely Hearts Club Band.</p><p>“<span><span>Stop comforting me,” she says and wipes at her eyes.<br/>
Shame burns through his body when he realizes he’s made her uncomfortable and he quickly lets go of her hand.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>Sorry.”<br/>
“No, no, I meant – it’s me who didn’t treat you right. I’m sorry. For what I said earlier, I shouldn’t have said that. The problem’s not that you’re not him – it’s that you are. Any time I try to be mad at him for leaving again without saying good-bye, you’ll do something that’s just so </span></span><span><em>you</em></span><span><span>.”<br/>
“Hey, you’re allowed some complicated feelings. It’s not every day someone leaves and simultaneously stays with you.”</span></span></p><p>“The point is – the point is I need you. We need each other. So don’t leave.”</p><p>“<span><span>Well. </span></span><span><span>Suppose I could stay,” </span></span><span><span>he says, like he’s doing her some grand favor. “</span></span><span><span>I didn’t really want to </span></span><span><span>leave </span></span><span><span>that badly </span></span><span><span>anyway.”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>She lets out a shaky laugh. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He wants to reach out to touch her shoulder, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“We’re in the same universe now,” he whispers.</p><p>“I know.”<br/>
“Doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Every time she won’t look at him. Every time she shies away from his touch. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>The pain burns in his chest just like it did when he lost her the first time.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>It’s just… you’re not the </span></span><span><span>same person I met back then and traveled the universe with.”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>That is why she struggles to look at him, is it? He decides to be brave and reaches out to </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>stroke her back.</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span></span><br/>
“Well neither is he. I’ve changed bodies before, remember?”<br/>
“Yeah, but, you were still – </span>
  
  <span>
    <span>the same man</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>.”<br/>
“And now there’s two of me. Split myself in two. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Regenerating into two different bodies.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>I </span></span><span><span>see</span></span><span><span>…” </span></span><span><span>she says and for a moment, his heart beats with the hope that she’ll understand. But then - “I</span></span><span><span>t doesn’t really matter.”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Oh, right. He’s still too human for her. He’s still somehow </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>less. </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He doesn’t have a TARDIS, he has nothing to show for. He should stop trying to convince her. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>It would probably be best for her if he left. He makes a small, pained noise.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“No, stop that. I meant it doesn’t matter if you’re a copy or a clone or not, you’re a version of the same person. You’re you. You are the Doctor. And you’re my best friend. And I want you to stay. Of course I do.”</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>He gets choked up with the pure wonder of it – he crosses universes to step into her arms and he draws her close. For the first time, he feels like the ground under his feet is solid. Suddenly, he has her again. Maybe she can’t love him. Won’t love him. But maybe she will. And either way, this is enough.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>He is the Doctor and Rose Tyler is his </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>friend.</em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ahhh I haven't written anything in so long and I just rewatched Doctor Who, so this really helped me to get back into it! I'll probably post the second part tomorrow.</p><p>I hope you liked it, I appreciate any comment or kudos :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    <span>One of the things the Doctor has always loved about humans is their unwavering optimism. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>And it really is hard to keep at bay. Suddenly, he can see the future again. Rose Tyler will be there. The rest is just specifics.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>It’s scary how much he wants it. And has wanted it, for such a long time. His favorite scents: morning breath, her strawberry shampoo, slow-dripping coffee. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>When laughter over the breakfast table blends into a hand held under the dinner table blends into a life lived happily. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Each glittering moment of human ordinariness has become unbearably precious. The universe is his to lose.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“What’s put you in such a good mood?” Rose asks him on his third day nearly human after he’s come into the dining room humming under his breath. She looks beautiful in her tiredness, her unkempt hair falling into her eyes.</p><p>Sleep would come more easily if she was right next to him.</p><p>“<span><span>Egg </span></span><span><span>warmers,</span></span><span><span>” he declares confidently, even though it’s just the first thing that pops in his head. “Fascinating human invention. </span></span><span><span>Small egg with a hat, imagine that! Do you have egg warmers somewhere?”<br/>
He looks </span></span><span><span>into the direction of</span></span><span><span> the kitchen counters, but Rose shakes her head.</span></span></p><p>“Mum’s not really much for knitting.”</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The Doctor pulls a disappointed face. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He assesses the tragic situation on the breakfast table: two </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>poor </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>eggs in egg cups, both hatless. </span>
  </span>
</p><p>“What’s the point of eggs if not to put little hats on them?”</p><p>He grabs a banana from the basket of non-fake fruits. He perches himself up on the table, right next to Rose’s egg.</p><p>“So I’ve been thinking,” he starts. Rose watches him over the rim of her coffee mug. “I should practice being human, now that I’m, y’know, human…”</p><p>Rose is sending him a slow look, probably wondering where he is going with this. Which he is, of course! He’s always going somewhere.</p><p>“Now, tables, if you think about it, are really terribly boring.”<br/>
“Maybe that’s because you’ve been using it as a chair this whole time,” she counters and kicks at his foot.</p><p>“You’re right, chairs are even more boring. Terrible concept, really. Luckily, humans have this great other invention – where they eat food on the ground, no tables or chairs anywhere involved. How brilliant is that?”</p><p>“You mean… a picnic?”<br/>
“Exactly! A picnic! What a great name, rolls off the tongue. Let’s have a big picnic in a tic!”<br/>
“That’ll do the trick,” Rose says. She seems amused.</p><p>“So you’re on board? Later today, picnic?”<br/>
“What, are you telling me you are preparing food?”<br/>
She doesn’t sound overly excited at the prospect, maybe even a little horrified.</p><p>“Oh yes. Great food-preparer, me. Or, well…” He hesitates, remembering the kitchen incident. “If it doesn’t involve any heating processes. Or knives. Or a complicated assortment of spices. Or an uncomplicated one. And come to think of it, do you think Jackie could be persuaded to let me into the kitchen again?”</p><p>“<span><span>Lucky for you, you have the right connections,” she smirks at him. For a moment, he blinks, uncomprehending.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>Oh! Right.” It’s a good feeling that fills his chest with warmth. To think that they’re in this together. “So </span></span><span><span>we got a deal</span></span><span><span>, then, </span></span><span><em>associate</em></span><span><span>?”</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>You bet </span></span><span><span>we do</span></span><span><span>,” Rose grins, “I can’t wait to see your second attempt at permanently destroying the kitchen.”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>The Doctor, of course, takes great offense.</span></span><span><span><br/>
“Hey! Have you got no faith in me?”<br/>
“When it comes to cooking?” </span></span><span><span>Rose leans back in her chair.</span></span><span><span> “None at all.”</span></span></p><p>“That barely counts as cooking,” the Doctor says, because he is an amazing hair-splitter when he wants to be. “Which I could be great at, by the way, if I had a little bit of practice.”</p><p>“No doubt about it,” Rose says and gets up from her chair to walk away into the kitchen.</p><p>“You don’t sound like you believe that,” the Doctor calls after her indignantly. He can hear her snicker. “Rose?” She’s laughing at him again. “Rose!”</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>But it’s fine. She’s warming up to him. He knows so far all his attempts at being normal have failed miserably, but at least she isn’t fed up with it yet. She’s still giving him chances. But it’s incredibly difficult to gauge how many he has left. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Before it becomes clear to her that this is not working. That he may be impressive saving worlds and traveling through space and time, but that, when it comes to being human, he’s a lost cause. She might realize soon that she’ll be better off with someone who’s genuinely human. Zero percent Time Lord. One hundred percent suited for a </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>domestic</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> life. Not like he is.<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He is unused to this feeling of inferiority. Usually it’s the other way around. He’d often have to argue that his head was perfectly normal sized and not in the least too big for his body. But now… What good is being able to operate a highly complex space ship from, say, the 67th</span>
    </span>
  
  <span>
    <span> century, when you can’t </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>even </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>operate a laundry machine? Who, in a small corner of London, will be </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>dazzled by</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his ability to speak dozens of alien languages, when none of these alien races will even make contact with earth for several centuries or longer?<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>They were downright ludicrous, really, the accusations of his other self – born out of blood and </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>anger and</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> revenge. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Born in fire. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>All he can set on fire is the kitchen. The bloody Oncoming Storm raging through a mansion on earth, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>oh, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>what a threat he makes. The universe shall shudder in fear when he takes his gruesome revenge on </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the dish washer for not cleaning all the dishes properly.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>It’s all alright though, all okay, so long as he focuses on the task at hand. He’ll show this world that he can make a mean sandwich, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>if not much else.<br/>
<br/>
***<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Rose tips back her head when she laughs, which exposes her throat, which is beautiful to look at. Her hair glows brightly in the sun. It’s so easy to forget all the things that are wrong if this one thing is right.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>They are sitting on a blanket in a park close to the mansion. Rose had picked the spot. Before they’d left, she’d asked him: “Well, where do you want to go?”<br/>
“I don’t know anything about this universe,” he’d said, “you lead the way.”<br/>
And then she’d taken his hand, his cursed, magical hand that had once been fully Time Lord. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>And now they were eating his carefully prepared sandwiches, which she seemed to like – all according to a nefarious plan of his own making. (Ha, take that, other Doctor.)</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>So there’s no Eiffel tower in this universe?” he asks.</span></span></p><p>“Nope,” she says.</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>So they couldn’t visit the most romantic spot of the so-called City of Love in this universe. Of course, in all the universe, there </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>are</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> far more romantic spots he could have taken her, but now that they </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>are</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> earth-bound, it </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>is</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a bit of a bummer. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>But then again… She probably wouldn’t want to go with him now anyway.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“I suppose,” he begins, suddenly somber, “there are some things this universe just doesn’t have to offer.”</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>She holds his gaze and he is overcome by the feeling that one word from her could make </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his single heart stop beating.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Do you prefer the other one?” he asks, </span></span><span><span>even though he really shouldn’t</span></span><span><span>. </span></span><span><span>For his own sake. </span></span><span><span>But anything he does these days seems to end up cutting his own flesh, so what difference does it really make?</span></span><span><span> She doesn’t respond for a moment. “The other universe, I mean,” </span></span><span><span>he clarifies quickly, almost tripping over the words.</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>She still won’t look away. Why not? Is there something on his face? Is she seeing </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>him</em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>? </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>(How couldn’t she?)</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span><br/>
But she shakes her head.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>I mean, when it comes down to it, they’re not all that different,” she says slowly. “For a while, I got really irritated at those pink traffic lights, but eventually I got used to it. </span></span><span><span>There are some things I miss, but this universe has its perks too.</span></span><span><span>”</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>It does?”<br/>
She leans forward conspiratorially.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>There might not be an Eiffel tower in this universe, but there </span></span><span><span>are the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.”<br/>
“</span></span><span><span>I thought Babylon didn’t exist anymore,” </span></span><span><span>he tilts his head in thought. “Visited once, but that was a long time in the past.</span></span><span><span>”<br/>
“Not in this universe,” she says,</span></span><span><span> “</span></span><span><span>and those gardens are</span></span><span><span> supposed to be really… romantic.”</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>Yeah?”<br/>
A tentative smile crosses his face.<br/>
“Yeah,” she smiles back. </span></span><span><span>And then she intertwines their fingers. </span></span><span><span>And it’s so hard to breathe when she looks at him this way, the way she used to. Maybe they are not out of sync any longer. Maybe she can really see him. Maybe they can live in a house with a garden, even if it had a white picket fence. Maybe the </span></span><span><span>key to the </span></span><span><span>universe isn’t gone with the TARDIS, </span></span><span><span>it just looks a little different now.</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Then he remembers.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“Here,” he says and reaches into his pocket. “I saw this and thought of you.”<br/>
She makes a small noise when she sees the dandelion he picked on the way, one he can’t really interpret without the TARDIS translating for him.</p><p>“<span><span>I know it’s not a rose, but…”<br/>
“Shut up.”<br/>
But is that her typical </span></span><span><em>don’t-be-an-idiot</em></span><span><span>-shut-up, or is it </span></span><span><em>you-shouldn’t-have-done-this-</em></span><span><span>shut-up? When did she become so hard to read? He feels illiterate when it comes to Rose, like he tries so hard to understand but it just never quite adds up to a complete picture.</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>She takes the dandelion from him and puts it behind her ear and rolls her eyes at him, like </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>don’t be an idiot.</em>
  </span>
</p><p>“Suits you,” he says softly.</p><p>Then she frowns, touches the flower and then looks at their joined hands.</p><p>“<span><span>Wait a minute,” she says, “is this a date?”<br/>
He gulps when she lets go off his hand.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>Did you trick me into going on a date with you?”<br/>
“Now, I wouldn’t say </span></span><span><em>tricked</em></span><span><span>,” he tries to reason.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>You lied! You said you wanted to practice being human.”<br/>
“I would say </span></span><span><em>skillfully talked around the truth</em></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>I can’t believe you,” she harrumphs and lets herself fall back on the blanket.</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>His heart is beating irritatingly quickly. That seems to happen a lot, lately. Only got one heart and all it seems to want is to leap out of his chest and run away. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Really rather rude, that.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Are you upset with me?” he asks hesitantly.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>You’re an idiot,” she answers and shoves hi</span></span><span><span>s shoulder</span></span><span><span> lightly. </span></span><span><span>But she doesn’t run off screaming. So he lays down right next to her, blinking up at the sun. </span></span><span><span>Very slowly, he brushes his hand against hers. Then, because he is very brave, he slides their palms together. And then, in what might well be the however-man</span></span><span><span>y</span></span><span><span>eth </span></span><span><span>W</span></span><span><span>orld </span></span><span><span>W</span></span><span><span>onder of this universe, she entangles their fingers and squeezes his hand.</span></span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>
    <span>***<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Maybe being human is not so hard after all, the Doctor thinks. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>After spending the afternoon at the park, they’re standing in the corridor </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>of the mansion. All day, Rose has barely let go off his hand.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“I should really go to sleep,” she says now, but doesn’t move. Perhaps she doesn’t want to leave. The Doctor knows he doesn’t. (He doesn’t want to go back to the big lonely bed where there is way too much space for dark thoughts to settle under the blanket with him.)</p><p>“<span><span>Are you having nightmares?” he asks softly. </span></span><span><span>He really hopes she will say no, but she gives him a small nod.</span></span></p><p>“So do I.” His voice almost cracks with the admission.</p><p>“Guess we can’t avoid that.”<br/>
“No.”<br/>
“But we don’t have to be alone.” It’s a fact as much as it’s a suggestion.</p><p>“<span><span>No,” the Doctor whispers again. </span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>After he has changed into the pajamas Rose had somehow procured for him, he enters her room. Even though she asked him to come, he feels a little like an intruder. He can barely see it in the dark, but it doesn’t matter, because his eyes are only on her </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>and the way she is lying on her side under the blankets. Her bed is </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>just as big as the guest bed</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>. (But tonight, it won’t be lonely.)</span>
  </span>
</p><p>He slips under the blanket quietly. She is watching him, too. Maybe they are both worried the other will disappear. Just like before. Immediately, she reaches out for his hand again, as if any point of contact could miraculously keep him in this universe.</p><p>“<span><span>Are you dreaming…” he says, swallows, doesn’t want to ask, but somehow has to. “Are you dreaming about him?”<br/>
“Would you be upset if I was?”<br/>
“</span></span><span><span>All I want…” Why has it suddenly become so hard for him to talk? Each word is stubborn, doesn’t want to be s</span></span><span><span>poken</span></span><span><span>. “All I want is for you to be happy.”</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>It’s just that he’s out there somewhere.” She gets choked up. “All on his own.”</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>Not forever.”</span></span></p><p>It can’t be a promise, he knows that, but he wants to reassure her in any way he can.</p><p>“How can you know?”<br/>
“Well. I’m tougher than I look.”</p><p>“<span><span>I know.”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>He runs his fingers over her arm, watching where her eyes glint in the dark.<br/>
“At least he has Donna,” she whispers.</span></span></p><p>His throat gets tight.</p><p>“He doesn’t.”<br/>
She props herself up on one elbow.</p><p>“She… She couldn’t have lasted long, with all that Time Lord knowledge in a human brain. It would have burned her up. The only way to save her would have been to erase any memory of me – of the Doctor from her mind. She’ll have forgotten him by now.”<br/>
“Oh,” she sounds shocked. He’s mucking things up again. He’s not making her feel better, he’s making everything worse. And suddenly the thought of Donna presses down on him, so hard that he drops on his back instead of facing Rose. Donna’s voice in his head when he found out she really thought of herself as unimportant echos in his mind.</p><p>“She’s – it was all my fault,” he confesses. He wouldn’t blame her if she resented him for it, not only for ruining Donna’s life but also that of the other Doctor. His very existence brought nothing but trouble, has made everyone unhappy. Even Rose, because he knows, just knows she would be happier if she was back on the TARDIS, if there was only one of him. “If it weren’t for the metacrisis – if it weren’t for me -”<br/>
“Then she would be dead,” Rose interrupts, “the Daleks would have destroyed the TARDIS with Donna in it.”</p><p>Automatically, he opens his mouth to protest, but finds that there’s nothing he can say.</p><p>“<span><span>I miss her,” he says instead. “She was my best friend. And the TARDIS. She’s gone from my mind.”<br/>
“The telepathic link -”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>For a moment, he reaches out with his mind, but there’s no one there. No Time Lords, no TARDIS. The problem with splitting yourself in two is that you only get to live half a life. (He didn’t expect the loneliness.)</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span><br/>
“Gone.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>A </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>tear rolls from his eye, but it’s okay. She can’t see it in the darkness.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>That’s not all he dreams of, of course. There isn’t a man in the universe with more regrets. (Not in this one, anyway.) How many people have died in his arms? How many have died because of him? How many times did he hope only to have it ripped away from him again? When he closes his eyes, he sees the world burning and it’s him that set it on fire. And it always has been.</p><p>But he can’t tell her that. Not yet. Not tonight.</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Instead, he pulls her into his arms in the darkness and she presses herself to his chest. The world is small </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>enough not to get lost in. And that night, both of them sleep soundly.<br/>
<br/>
***<br/>
</span>
  </span>
</p><p>The next morning, the Doctor wakes up alone, but he isn’t overly anxious about it. He thinks about the whole time he’s getting dressed. He will get a job. In fact, he could work with Rose at Torchwood. That does seem to be where his expertise lies. Well, one of his expertises at least, the alien one.</p><p>He wants to take Rose on another date. He wants to go to the movies or the zoo or to get ice cream or chips or wherever humans go when they can’t take their eyes off one another.</p><p>He nearly starts whistling before he enters the dining room, but he doesn’t and that’s why he hears someone say his name on the inside.</p><p>“How are you and the Doctor doing?”<br/>
Innocuous question, but something still gives the Doctor pause. He waits with his hand on the door handle.</p><p>“<span><span>Fine.” It’s Rose’s voice. “I mean, I don’t know. It’s really… confusing.”<br/>
Confusing. That’s okay, he’ll take that. He can deal with </span></span><span><em>confusing. </em></span><span><span>Loads of people have been confused by him in the past.</span></span></p><p>“Do you love him?”</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Ah, he should step back, he should really go before she answers, but suddenly he is rooted to the spot, for the whole long moment she hesitates to answer.<br/>
“I love the Doctor,” she says then, and the breath catches in his throat, “I don’t think I could ever love anyone else.”</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>She says it with conviction, the way people who are in love tend to do. One love is always the one and only love, the last love, at least until the next one comes around. But if anyone is going to mean it, it’s Rose Tyler about the Doctor. Her Doctor. The one who has abandoned her.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>For a dreadful, lovely little while he’d really forgotten. That now he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>would</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> have to make do with half a life. And Rose </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>is</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> making do with half a man. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>If she ever loves him, it must be like falling in love with a memory. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>She </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>is</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> never </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>going to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> say it back. She will</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> allow him to love her, graciously, quietly, but she will</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> never say it back.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>He takes a deep breath and steels his shoulders. He won’t run away from this. He has braced himself against worse before. How foolish it had been of him to think she just needed time. What she needs, what she truly needs, is the other Doctor.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>He pastes on a smile before he opens the door. Of course, Rose can tell his fake smiles from his real ones, but she won’t comment, assume it’s his general inability to adjust to his new situation. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Which isn’t so far from the truth. (She was right when she said he was a thief. If she ever feels anything toward him, they will be stolen affections, belonging to another man. Except for her resentment. That </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>one </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>belongs rightfully to him.)</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Morning,” he says brightly.</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The room falls quiet instantly, but he ignores it and saunters into the room, like nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong.<br/>
“Banana?” Rose asks and smiles at him. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>She really shouldn’t do that. It only makes him feel things he shouldn’t.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Nah, thanks,” he declines. What right does he have to like bananas? Maybe bananas don’t want to be liked by a man like him. </span></span><span><span>He’ll just have a pear instead. Those deserve no sympathy.</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Rose’s kind eyes follow him when he walks around the dining table and picks up a pear. She’s concerned about him. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>She does care. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>That’s what she does, now. Make the best of a bad deal.<br/>
<br/>
***<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re drunk already,” Jackie tells him in the evening.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Time Lords don’t get drunk,” he insists. </span></span><span><span>A couple of her friends had come over earlier and then they’d opened a bottle of wine. The Doctor had also wanted a glass. Just to blend in, of course, and definitely not to wallow in self-pity. Time Lords don’t do that.</span></span></p><p>“Shame you aren’t one then,” Jackie says, “at least not completely.”<br/>
Why is he even talking to her? Where is Rose?</p><p>He swirls around, or tries to, but the speed of it topples him over.</p><p>“You’re drunk,” Jackie accuses.</p><p>“It’s just this rubbish human coordination,” the Doctor says, “is what it is.”</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Something of him is missing, he’s sure of it, though he can’t quite determine what it is. Maybe it’s his foot and that’s why he fell over. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He slowly rights himself, but it’s surprisingly hard. (Possibly due to lack of foot.)</span>
  </span>
</p><p>“<span><span>Are you sure you can do this?” Jackie asks from very far away, probably a good few meters above him. “The slow life? The nine to five?”<br/>
He manages to balance himself on two feet. Jackie is right in front of his face. Huh.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>I’m the Doctor,” the Doctor says confidently, “I can do </span></span><span><em>anything</em></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p><p>It’s a really bad moment to trip again, but evidently, his legs don’t care about that. Jackie holds out a hand for him, but there seem to be suddenly two of her.</p><p>“<span><span>Zygon!” the Doctor yells. After blinking two times, there’s only one Jackie again. Still holding out her hand. “No, no, you’re not a zygon. Probably.”<br/>
He waves his hand around dismissiv</span></span><span><span>el</span></span><span><span>y and instead of grabbing Jackie’s, he leans back onto the porch, </span></span><span><span>until his head hits the hard stone floor.</span></span><span><span><br/>
“</span></span><span><span>Don’t you worry about me,” the Doctor says. “I’ve got it aaaall under control.”<br/>
Only that he doesn’t. Which is why he won’t be getting up again in the near future. </span></span><span><span>It’s an important skill, that. To know when you’re beaten.<br/>
</span></span><span><span>He closes his eyes for a long moment and tries to swallow the bile rising in his throat. It’s bitter, all so bitter…</span></span></p><p>When he opens his eyes again, Rose is standing over him.</p><p>“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she says. But she’s smiling, always smiling. She’s far too nice to him. Cutting him slack.</p><p>“Well, it’s a nice floor.”</p><p>“Hope you’re not planning on sleeping here again. Believe it or not, but beds are actually more convenient for that.”<br/>
“I would have to walk quite a way,” the Doctor says, feeling dizzy. “That’s not very convenient.”</p><p>“<span><span>You’re right,” she answers and proceeds to lay down on the porch right next to him. They both look up at the stars. The not-quite-right stars. </span></span><span><span>He would love nothing more than to get up close and </span></span><span><span>personal with them to</span></span><span><span> look for the differences.</span></span><span><span><br/>
“Humans,” the Doctor says, like it’s something extraordinarily despicable, “they get goo in their eyes, did you know that? You wake up and there’s stuff in your eyes! How’s that practical?”<br/>
“However will you cope?” She throws an arm over her forehead, like it’s a horrible tragedy. Which it is. </span></span><span><span>She’s stuck her tongue between her teeth again, which he is absolutely certain she does only to torture him. Personally.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>I would watch a water tap drip for you, did you know that?” he asks quietly, looking back at the stars. They’re so untouchable, </span></span><span><span>even though t</span></span><span><span>here’s not even a wall between them. Just space. Space </span></span><span><span>upon</span></span><span><span> space </span></span><span><span>upon</span></span><span><span> space. “</span></span><span><span>I would sit here and watch a flower grow. If you asked me to.”<br/>
“You’re drunk,” Rose says, which rings some sort of a bell.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>So they </span></span><span><span>tell me</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p><p>
  <span>
    <span>He wonders about whatever limb of his went missing. Something… Something went missing… But right now, right here, he’s not missing anything at all.<br/>
“You make me feel whole,” he whispers. Even though she will forever be wishing he were someone else. “You make me feel whole…”<br/>
It’s his last thought before he drifts off.</span>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>
    <span>***<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>His head is pounding when consciousness drags him back </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>by his lapels </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>into miserable reality. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He is in a bed, even though he distinctly remembers not falling asleep in one. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>It’s only when he’s half-way through brushing his teeth that he remembers what he said to Rose. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>That’s it. Alcohol is banned from this rubbish part human body. He never should have conducted that experiment in the first place. Now he’d gone and embarrassed himself in front of Rose.</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> And told her things she really doesn’t want to hear.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>He’ll stay here forever, he thinks </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>while he is getting dressed, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>into borrowed clothes, and</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> suddenly </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>he is </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>horrified. In this house, in this bathroom. This is </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>it. </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>There’s nothing more, there is nothing to discover, there is just day by day by miserable day.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>He will drown in a sea of sameness. He will die within a small amount of years, within hours, within seconds. And Rose will miss him, only she won’t be missing him, but a man a universe away.</p><p>He stops with three buttons still undone and doesn’t bother putting on shoes. He rushes down the corridor, past Jackie, who yelps and nearly drops her hairdryer. He runs out the front door and he has nowhere to go, but it doesn’t matter because all he needs is to get away. He runs like he is chased by a Dalek or a Sontaran or a man in a uniform. Luckily, what is chasing him is very, very slow – slowness itself, in fact, but that’s only reason to go faster.</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Rose will only ever love him for everything he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <em>isn’t, if at all. There is nothing else for him in this universe. He runs past houses, past people who have no problem living slowly, past trashcans and street lamps. </em></span><em>
  
  <span>
    <span>Past cars adhering to speed limits.</span>
  </span>
</em></p>
<p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>He runs out of breath fast, much faster than he is used to, but that only spurs him on to run through the pain. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He only slows down once he is far from the mansion.<br/>
Suddenly he can see it – what he’s been looking for, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>for centuries, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>only </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>seeing </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>it</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> through the eyes of his companions. The whole universe blaring at him. The crispness of fresh morning air burns through his lungs with every gasping breath he takes. A butterfly flutters by in a flash of blue. A woman walking her Golden Retriever. Dew glitters in the grass. And on the horizon shines the sunset, dunking the whole sky in orange and pink and yellow. He hasn’t watched a sunset in such a long time. After all, who needs to watch a sunset when you can visit a thousand suns? But it’s beautiful. He can see it all, how beautiful and precious this world is. This is why they are all here - to bear witness to it. This is why he is here.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>It’s his world, now. All the world he gets.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Still catching his breath, he sinks against the nearest building and just watches. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He must be watching for a long time, because when he takes his eyes off the sunset again, it’s to see Rose step out of a taxi.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>For a moment, it looks like she’ll yell at him, which is fair enough, but when she sees him, her shoulders drop.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“<span><span>Are you okay?” </span></span><span><span>she asks instead of yelling.</span></span><span><span><br/>
“I’m fine.”<br/>
She gives him a look like she doesn’t believe a word.<br/>
“Well, I wasn’t a minute ago,” the Doctor amends. “</span></span><span><span>I might have… panicked again. A little bit.”<br/>
“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”<br/>
She sounds a little scared.</span></span></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“About you?” He looks at her fondly. “Never.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“<span><span>Yeah, but staying in one place, you know, </span></span><span><em>domestic</em></span><span><span>. Is that what you want?”<br/>
“That’s not what I was running from.” He takes a deep, bracing breath. He should be honest with her. “Me and you, living the slow life. I think I was running from… the prospect of not getting it.”</span></span></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The thought that he would never have it, not with her by his side, is torturous.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“But we’re in this together now, isn’t that what we said? Why are you scared? You can have that.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The corners of his mouth turn down with the pain of it.</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span><br/>
“Not</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> really. Not in the way I want.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Rose, in front of him, is in the same universe, but worlds away.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“<span><span>Why not?” she asks gently.</span></span></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“<span><span>Because – because I’m not </span></span><span><em>him</em></span><span><span>. I’ll always be… your second choice. And no matter how happy I am, I’ll always remember that.”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>She looks at him with immeasurable sadness in her eyes, which is not what he wanted at all. </span></span><span><span>He wants her to look at him the way she used to. He wants to see that spark in her eyes again. He should have pushed her away, when she had kissed him on the beach, so she could have run after the TARDIS. He shouldn’t have been so bloody </span></span><span><em>weak</em></span><span><span>.</span></span></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“<span><span>I’m sorry -”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>Sometimes he can’t stand her empathy, her stubborn kindness.</span></span><span><span><br/>
“It’s not your fault,” he quickly interrupts. “It’s…</span></span><span><span> fine. I just need some time.”</span></span></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Some time to accept he’s not who he used to be. And </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>that he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>can’t ask her to treat him the same. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>She looks at him and sees double – and he understands. He really does.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“<span><span>No,” she says firmly, “I’m sorry I ever made you think… I made you feel this way. And you’re right, I can’t forget him. He’s… well, he’s you. It would be incredibly hard to love one without </span></span><span><span>loving </span></span><span><span>the other.”</span></span></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>I</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>t’s not that he minds that. It’s that, if the other Doctor came back, she would choose him. That’s the persistent and unbearable fact in the back of his mind.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“<span><span>But you can’t,” he chokes out, </span></span><span><span>even though he doesn’t mean to.</span></span></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She tilts her head.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Love me,” he adds.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“<span><span>Why would you say that?”<br/>
She seems heartbroken over him. </span></span><span><span>This might be the worst part. His whole existence is breaking her heart.</span></span></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“It’s what you said, you said…” He’s becoming a little uncertain now. “I heard you.” In fact, those words won’t stop ringing in his ear. “You said you could never love anyone but the Doctor.”<br/>
Rose steps toward him carefully and reaches for his hand. <em>Stop touching me, I can’t take it, stop being so bloody kind -</em></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“And you are the Doctor, stupid,” she says.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“<span><span>Oh,” he says softly, then, “Ohhh.”</span></span></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>That puts a different spin on things. Not just things, everything really. And everything is spinning, a little, except for her face. He doesn’t care. He is the Doctor and she loves the Doctor. It’s mad. It’s completely non-sensical.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“<span><span>Only you,” she chastises. </span></span><span><span>Then her voice becomes heavy with emotion. </span></span><span><span>“</span></span><span><span>I couldn’t accept it at first, because I was being stupid. But… y</span></span><span><span>ou stayed for me. Of course I love you.”</span></span></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>The world is spinning. He needs something to hold on to. He grabs her hand and it’s the one thing steady in this whole universe. Entirely against his will, a tear rolls down his cheek and then another one.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“What -” He stops and gathers his breath. “What’s that? Why am I crying?”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“<span><span>It’s a human thing,” she whispers </span></span><span><span>very close to his face</span></span><span><span>, “it means that you’re happy.”<br/>
</span></span><span><span>She puts one hand on his cheek and one over his ear and then she presses her lips to his. She kisses him just like she did on the beach, but this time it’s not a spur of the moment decision with disastrous consequences. This time it’s full of promise. He wonders if </span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span>he can taste </span></span><span><span>his </span></span><span><span>tears in </span></span><span><span>her</span></span><span><span> mouth.</span></span></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It means that you’re happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Astonished, the Doctor looks inside himself, into a place he’d thought empty, and finds that she’s right.<br/>
<br/>
He really is.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yep. It's humany-wumany, because I love that scene with the Eleventh Doctor, where he calls happy crying humany-wumany and then cries a tear of happiness when he visits the Ponds for christmas. (Ahhh.)</p><p>I really hope you enjoyed this story! I'll be very happy about any comment or kudos :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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